Halu-Halo

What a 22-month-old will teach you

It's taking Baby J a little while to get to bed tonight.  No, it's so far not anything like the all-nighter she pulled when she was a baby, thank goodness, but still, a couple of hours have passed and I'm still waiting for her to hit REM.  I've read her usual stories, tried to cajole her into bed by actually getting into the crib with her, and even commanded her with my Mom-voice to "get thee to bed," but she just isn't ready.

When I finally left her room after a half hour of useless begging,  she launched into a sing-song monologue of baby words and giggles.  I can only imagine that she was talking to her Guardian Angel, or maybe to one of her Great-Grandmothers, and she probably told them all about how she stole a piece of chocolate from the pantry and ate it right through the wrapper.  "Mama didn't find out until I finished the whole thing!" she bragged.  "I had it all over my shirt, my face, and my hair."

I didn't want to intervene,  but I had to sneak in to get a couple of shots.  I low-crawled into her room, and reached my camera around the corner of her closet and snapped away.

As the minutes passed she grew quieter, and she's now starting to inch towards her mattress.  I'm betting that it will be only another 10 minutes before her heavy breathing commences.

The lessons from this last week, now inspired to be written (thank you, Baby J).

There are some things just out of your control.

Within challenges, there is light and song.

Rest and relief come, have faith that it will.

Until then, you must do what you can to capture the moment.

 

 

Indoors

As much as I love the sun, and being outdoors, I am equally a recluse.  I don't mind wearing my yoga pants all day, my torso bundled up in a sweater.  I find comfort in the confines of my home, even under my favorite blanket. And I love having the predictability of what's to happen next, the control of what task needs to be completed.

When the weather is warm, the pressure is greater  to be productive outside of the home.  I usually never mind rising to it, the sun is pure temptation, and my energy easily flows outwards.  But because of this, I am antsy inside my home, especially when the kids are over-loud, when its walls cannot keep me from my stretch.    

I find that when I am outside these walls, I miss a few things.  I pass on some of the small mundanes, like rearranging our pantry or deleting the spam emails I receive.  I write a little less, I don't craft as much, and I butterfly my way through the day.  It is all great fun, but admittedly, tiring.

So, on days like this, when it is cold and icy, I receive it with open arms.

On days like this, I can allow myself to look inwardly, without the outside to distract me.  The ice is a reason to halt the normal, and encourage creativity from more limited resources. On days like this, it is alright to move slowly, to be careful.

It is even easier to to be caring, in my opinion, to take stock of everything one has ignored on those sunny days.  Like dusting the tops of doorways and rearranging the papers on my desk.  Or folding fabric.  

 And somewhere in between baking and finding a chore or craft for the children to do, the creative mojo finds its way to surface.  

On days like this, I can hear myself.

Have a safe and wonderful weekend everyone.

 

 

 

I love having creative friends...

And I love it even better when they live nearby..

I had breakfast with KimberlyR this morning.  We snacked, had hot beverages, gossiped and laughed and talked business.  I took a lot of silly pictures, and she didn't mind, because she knew me well enough to know that by entering into my home,she inherently agreed that she would be a part of a future blog post or a tagged Facebook picture. (*)  

Sorry, Kim :)

But seriously folks, she came bearing yarn...how could I not talk about it.  In fact, I think I even squealed when she handed it to me.  Such is my love for hand-dyed yarn - I freak out even in small quantities.

I was giddy for hours after our morning together, as if a part of me was topped off and fulfilled.  I usually feel the same way after coming from a Quilt Guild meeting, or after checking into a craft blog or forum.  It's as if the sharp parts of my environment smudge just a tad, making *all of this* - the constant and busy of now - seem that much prettier.

With Creative Friends, most everything is possible.  They dream for it to come true.  Their imagination translates into something tangible, substantial and present.  And their encouragement - it's undending, no matter how small the project is, or whether it's been completed.  After all, it's as much about process and progress as it is about product.

With Creative Friends, I feel completely inspired!  I remember the projects I would like to do, I rifle through the patterns I hope to start, and I revel knowing that these things really, really make me happy, in what could be considered as rudimentary or domestic.  These organized set of stitches, these combinations of fabrics, they are all little outbursts of excitement onto fabric.  

These days, I don't accomplish nearly as much as I want to, but my Creative Friends help me remember through their own projects that life goes on, one stitch at a time.  That the fabric that is our environment is stitched together by people from all walks of life.  And that, really, nothing is wasted from whatever we do, as little or as much as we finally get to show.

I bet that Kim didn't think that her visit would do me that much good, but it did.  And if you're not a crafter, I bet you didn't think that all that could be felt doing a little bitty quilt or knitting a hat, but trust me, it can.  

Have a good night everyone!

 

(*) Note that I respect all friends wishes. If they are photo or blog shy, I promise that I don't expose them to my tomfoolery.   

Radical in 2012

Hi Friends,

I wasn't sure how I was going to begin this post...it's been churning in my head for days.  I think I'm the last blogger to wish the world a Happy 2012, but the pressure of the first post weighed on my shoulders.  Would I give a recap of my year, the projects I was able to accomplish, the works in progress yet to be completed?  Or would I list my resolutions for the year, with a heartfelt hope that I would be sucessful?  Or maybe post a series of pictures of the highlights of 2011?  

It all didn't seem right for me, for this post to look back.  Well before the year ended, I actually felt that I was coming over a crest, feeling the freedom of seeing what's on the other side.  It was like what I rememebered about running up Stanyan - it was almost better just to keep going until I reached the plateau of an intersection, rather than stop in the middle of the climb to see how far I had gone.

You're probably wondering what in the heck I have accomplished in the last year, with all of this talk about running up an insanely steep hill in San Francisco. Alas, my resume won't show much more than it did from January of last year, except for an extra few miles I logged in, and a few more words I was finally able to get on paper.  But my insides, the real stuff that makes "me", has come through what I call the Fog of 2011.

It has much to do with getting adjusted and readjusted.  The rearranging of the physical priorities within what the family needs, the tweaking of personal priorities in the categories of 'dream' and 'reality', and finally finding that there is a bridge that connects these two things.  It was toting the line in between expectation and radical and then deciding to throw that one foot on the other side and opening my eyes and saying, Wow, why didn't I do that earlier?  

I know!  There she goes with her mumbo jumbo again.  This is why I held back a couple of days to post.  The words are all here, on the tips of my fingers, I am typing as fast as I can so that I don't filter so much of what I mean.

What is all this about?

It's about everything.  Perspective. Baby steps leading to gazelle-like movements. Process. Faith. Rolled up in one and then twisted and turned.  It's knowing myself.  And it's being more brave.  Not just chug-a-chuging up that hill, but really using those legs and my (well-fed) ass to haul myself over, knowing I will be fully out of breath up there.  

No, you won't be seeing me running 8 minute miles, I'm perfectly happy at my 11:30's.  I won't be knocking out a quilt a month, though I'll still be making some very loved items.  And I guarantee that the crazy moments will come, and sometimes I will cry and complain, this is life after all.   This is not about stats, or counting those notches above my bed (which I don't have, lest you think...).  

It's about finding my groove, and 2012 is going to witness it.

I hope the first 4 days of your year has been eventful in some way, even in your quietest moments.  Celebrate it with me.